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Tuesday, 1 November 2016

Quotes from "Fabian: An Artisan-Sorcerer Story"

Here are a few short quotes from Fabian to tempt your appetite...

Grief is a weird thing; it hides beneath the surface and rises like a
shark from the depths of your soul when you least expect it.

***

If a person worships money as their god and devotes all or most of their
time and energy to its accumulation, feeding the spiritual with only
fragments of their energies, then the spiritual will starve. Wealth in
itself presents no obstacle to the spiritual. On the contrary,
financial independence can bring freedoms which would otherwise remain
beyond reach. And mastery of the material world is an often-overlooked
facet of mastery of the self. There is no place in our Order for those
who pretend to be an Adept when they can't even pay their own bills.

***

For all those years, she had ached for the future. So much time had
been spent imagining how life would be, how events would unfold, how
perfect everything would turn out in the end if only she kept hoping it
would be so. And here she was, once again wishing things were different
from reality. Another bushel of 'if only'. She had lain down in the
bright green pasture she'd longed for, only to find it had plenty of
thistles and cow shit of its own.

***

The creature's front paws plunged deep into Jason's chest. A thinly
rasped scream tore through his rigid paralysis. Raw agony convulsed his
arching spine. He could not believe he could endure such pain and
still live. He was going to pass out. Silver and red flooded his
bulging eyes. Tiny veins in his eyes burst. Then Jason knew what
attacked him. This was no flesh-and-blood animal which had somehow
slunk into his locked and bolted bedsit. This beast was an
astral-dwelling fiend; a hunter with the mind of a man who could travel
anywhere and assume any shape. A shape-shifter. A werewolf.

***

Louise felt an invisible fist slam into her solar plexus. Spiny psychic
suckers plunged into the inner-most cortex of her nervous system. She
cried out in pain as she felt her energy draining swiftly away, as if
the life of every orange-red cell was ripped out of her. She flailed
her arms, trying to hang-on to something solid, but her sence of balance
swung wildly off kilter. She lurched fowards, cracking her forehead
against the edge of the table as she crashed to the floor. Her chest
was a needling spike of pain. Her heart was struggling.